expressing the inexpressible
by TheBigCat
Summary: So Ruby sits down at the grand piano standing, alone in the middle of the stage, skims her palms along the smooth wood, and breathes in deeply. There are a million stories written into the history of this place, a song attached to each one of them. Snatches of baroque, snippets of waltzes, and samples of jazz, all mingled together. Tales from all over Time, all at her fingertips.


**look at me, writing for a dead fandom.**  
 **Um, Ruby's from the Big Finish audios. She's really cool, and I love her character.**  
 **I may have used a few of my headcanons for this thing, so please feel free to call me out on them if you feel like they're out of character.**

* * *

"After silence, that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music."  
― Aldous Huxley, _Music at Night and Other Essays_

* * *

Ruby has always been exceptional at playing all instruments, from the simplest triangle to the violin to the most obscure of instruments like the rudra veenda, and more than that, she can make them all _sing_ like they had been built for, coax the most extraordinary of sounds from their depths, be they wooden or metallic or something else entirely. It doesn't matter what it is or how it was made, Ruby can play it without even trying, and it's like she was born to do it (well, of course she was).

But no matter what, the piano will always be her favourite of them all.

Oh, _sure,_ she can just imagine the tune in her mind and glance severely at it and the instrument will leap into life, turning out the melody and harmony dutifully, but that's no fun, is it? No, nothing really compares to the feeling of your fingers on the even, cold ivory, dancing up and down over a maze of black and white.

So Ruby sits down at the grand piano standing, alone in the middle of the stage, skims her palms along the smooth wood, and breathes in deeply. There are a million stories written into the history of this place, a song attached to each one of them. Snatches of baroque, snippets of waltzes, and samples of jazz, all mingled together. Tales from all over Time, all at her fingertips.

She opens the cover, bringing it to rest on its catch with a small _click_ , brushes her short hair back, takes another breath, and raises her hands over the keyboard, savouring the moment. The few, precious seconds before she begins to play are always the most tense, most exciting. It's as if Time itself has stopped out of consideration.

Ruby touches her fingers to the top notes- two high Cs- smiles, and begins to play.

She starts with an intense swirl of notes, cascading over each other in a flurry, descending down to rumble in the bass clef for a moment before sweeping up again to rush up to the treble clef again, and then higher. Her right hand stays up there, dancing in an intense melody while her left hand pours downwards again, picking out heavy chords, providing grounding.

Gradually, slowly, her hands come together again in the middle of the keyboard and then spring outwards, bouncing in contrary motion. She's decided on a key signature for the moment, although it's altogether likely to change very soon. It's a harmonic minor filled with accidentals and progressions that make it sound like there's something bigger coming, a part of the song that will make this stunning opening look like it was composed on a five-year-old's xylophone.

Three more grand, echoing chords, and behind the song, there's a story forming. Ruby's eyes narrow, and she concentrates, drawing it out, bit by bit, from the music. Her hands slow, and the powerful notes die down into a waltz, notes reverberating throughout the music hall. There's a man and a woman dancing together, clothed in regal, opera-esque garb. They're laughing, and the woman's head is resting on her partner's shoulder, listening to what he's saying.

The scene is far too peaceful. It's not what she's looking for.

Ruby brings the song from three-four into six-eight time, and from there springs a quick succession of staccato notes, ringing loudly in the silence brought by the rest of the song stopping. Without missing a beat, she dives into a quick jazz rhythm at the bottom, improvising wildly at the top, except anyone watching wouldn't know that, it sounds far too practised and purposeful for that. The key shifts again, escalating up over several tones and vamping up and down. Another scene is forming, pulling itself up from the notes and melting out from the shadows on either side of the stage. A clock is chiming, and clips of flowers are resting in otherwise empty flower pots, and a young woman in a summer dress is standing outside the train station, waiting for her lover to arrive.

It's closer this time, but not quite, so Ruby shifts again with a few twists of her hands, and now the music is faster, faster, faster- her hands are a blur and are striking the keys almost painfully, and the percussion of her long, elaborately-painted nails blends with the harmonies and chords. The genre of the music isn't anything that limited human understanding would be able to comprehend, but it's creating a story just as easily as the waltz and the jazz, maybe even quicker. There's a no-faced man standing on their stairs, except he can't be standing there, because the stairs aren't there and neither is he.

It's even closer, but still not the right place.

Ruby concentrates, and increases it.

Bit by bit, the song is spiralling out of the realms of possibility. She mixes in tones, semitones, and begins to deviate. Quarter tones and one-eighth tones, things that you shouldn't be able to play on a normal grand piano; higher than the highest range, lower than the lowest range. There's a man and a woman standing at a window in a café, staring off into eternity- yes, that's it! She's doing just fine, but she mustn't get cocky yet. She needs to control this song- not let it control her.

She slows down, and the song morphs into something elegant and not quite a sonata, but as close as it's possible to get. Her fingers strike out at the keys, hitting each one with pinpoint precision and shifting her feet on and off the pedals so smoothly it sounds as if it's being done by some sort of machine- not a mere woman in a red dress.

Two figures are appearing on the stage, now, fuzzy at first and getting clearer with every passing second. Ruby risks a glance over her shoulder, not missing a note and smiles slightly at seeing them before moving into a slow chord progression, letting the song take itself to its natural conclusion.

As she moves her hands up delicately to play a simple, haunting refrain in the upper keys, an echo of the opening.

"Interesting choice of song," says the man.

Ruby allows herself a short but satisfied smile, safe in the knowledge that the two now standing behind her can't see her face. "It evolved," she says, and closes off the song, using less and less notes until all that's left is a B sharp, ringing and poignant in the otherwise empty auditorium.

The note holds for a few seconds, and then Ruby sits back, raising her hands slowly from the keyboard. She breathes in and out, and then swings her legs over the back of the stool, swivelling to face her two new companions.

"Welcome back," she says levelly.

"Thank goodness," says Sapphire, who is unruffled as ever and resplendent in a blue dress that's only a few shades darker than her usual attire. "It was getting rather boring in there. I don't think we can thank you enough."

Ruby snorts in a very unladylike manner. "You can thank me by not getting trapped in a café outside of time and space for several millennia," she says, reaching back to run her fingers over the keys of the piano. "I wouldn't have bothered getting you back if it wasn't for Silver."

"Silver?" Steel says, already looking uncomfortable and impatient to go, like spending so long in one place has made him more likely to start running at any time.

"Yes. He was rather concerned about you two." Ruby raises an eyebrow, as if questioning that such a thing is possible. "He practically _begged_ me to come here."

Of course, that isn't true. She came of her own accord- Silver couldn't make her do anything that she doesn't want to, not in a million years. But it wouldn't do to let Sapphire and Steel know that. It's better to keep up outwards pretences.

(It will hurt less that way, in the long run.)

Sapphire's eyes narrow, and she doesn't look entirely convinced, but she nods. "What's the matter with this place?"

"Nothing's the matter," Ruby says, casting a look around the grand old auditorium.

"There's echoes of Time everywhere," Sapphire disagrees, and reaches a hand out, fingers grasping at nothing. " _Oh._ "

"What is it?" Steel's at her side in an instant, and Ruby has to hold back the urge to roll her eyes. They're so sickeningly _affectionate_ around each other, although most humans wouldn't think so.

"Nothing," says Sapphire, echoing Ruby. "It's just… I haven't felt Time for a while. It's simply a bit of a shock."

Ruby stares up at the ceiling, and picks out a simple, one-fingered tune around middle C without looking. "In answer to your question, this area is practically steeped in history. It's not a danger for any potential Time breakouts, but it makes it a... well, a rather good point for channelling events via music." She pauses. "I come here often."

"I see," says Steel. "In that case, we'll leave you alone."

"Oh, _Steel._ " Ruby raises an eyebrow. "Anybody would think that you were eager to be rid of me."

"Well, you do enjoy your solitude," Sapphire points out.

"Yes, but…" Ruby trails off, and sighs again. She can't quite think of what to say.

 _It's been ever so boring without you two around._ It's true, but beside the point.

 _I do enjoy your company._ No, their relationship is purely based on work. She derives no pleasure from it.

 _I've missed you._ Of course she hasn't, that's ridiculous.

"We haven't played together for quite some time," she says instead. "And Silver is terrible at taking the melody. I need a _challenge_ , Sapphire. Indulge me."

"Ruby, is this really the time?" Steel says impatiently, but Sapphire turns away briefly, and when she looks back, her dress reaches the ground and is made of shimmering folds of silk that sweep around her. She's holding the wooden neck of a violin loosely in one hand, and the fingers of her other are wrapped around the bow. She inclines her head, a half-smile playing across her lips.

"It's been a while," Ruby says, turning back to the piano, a mirroring smile on her own face. "Do you think you can keep up?"

Sapphire swings the violin up, tucking it neatly under her chin, and gives the strings a perfunctory pluck. "I may have been out of Time for quite a while, but that doesn't mean any of my skills have dulled."

"And what about me?" Steel asks, folding his arms.

"You have two options," says Ruby, barely glancing at him. "Either sit down and listen to us, or stand awkwardly on the side of the stage playing the maracas, since I very much suspect that's all that you're good for."

"Ruby," Sapphire scolds, but she's smiling, almost fondly. "Steel can sing."

"Yes, but does he _want_ to?" Ruby counters, enjoying the exchange.

In response, Steel huffs and stalks off the stage, footsteps echoing, and goes to take a seat somewhere in the middle rows.

"It looks like it's just you and me, Sapphire," Ruby smiles, and strikes out at the keys, hard and savage.

It takes Sapphire a moment to pick up on her tempo, and then they're off, battling each other in a furious cascade of notes and melody. They're arguing with each other, and harmonizing with each other, and complimenting and correcting each other and it's chaotic and wonderful.

Ruby hasn't felt this happy in such a very long time.

She tells herself it's because she's finally got an equal to make music with. She tells herself it's because she now has somebody to show off to, somebody who will appreciate her skills fully.

But then she glances over at Steel, who's watching Sapphire intently with that almost-smile on his face and she looks over at Sapphire, who's enjoying every moment of it, _pulling_ the notes from the violin with great, ringing vibrato, and she understands.

It's a bit like coming home.


End file.
